


fearfully, wonderfully, made

by AslansCompass



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Gen, Synths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: "What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! " Picard had cited these words once, more than twenty years ago, defending humanity to the self-aggrandizing, fickle Q.  Now, with his longtime friend Data gone and synths banned throughout the Federation, Picard must once more take up the quest to seek new life and defend it.(Character explorations for Dahj, Soji, and other synths in Picard, including some flashbacks to NG)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Dahj: stranger

The late afternoon sun gleamed overhead, casting a faint shine on each vine. The small tender drones, mere specks in the distance, could be mistaken for crows. Even these days, some people still valued old things. Still valued nature. Dahj remembered her father in his greenhouse, surrounded by rows of dahlias. Of her childhood, soil on her fingers and the faint smell of green in the air. But these vines were older than anything she'd known; perhaps even older than the buildings of the Daystrom Institute itself. 

A dog barked up ahead. Well, if he didn't know she was coming before, he did now (and he _hadn't_ ; somehow she'd disabled all the perimeter alarms and transmat barriers, without even knowing how she'd done it, because if she'd stopped to consider it, she'd never be able to start again) It ran up to her, sniffing at her hands before turning away.

"What do you want here?" The man stood up, blinking into the sunlight behind her. 

"I saw you, the interview. Do you know me?" 

"What?"

"Do you know me?" 

"No."

"Look at me." She folded back her hood and took a step closer, meeting his gaze. The deep, dark eyes, the slight wrinkles on his brow....."You're not sure. You're not sure; how do I know that?"

"Who are you?"

Dahj Asha, recently accepted to Daystrom--except she's not sure of that anymore. She's not sure of anything, except---"I was with my boyfriend. We were in my apartment. They put a bag over my head, I couldn't see anything--" She was breaking down, barely able to keep the terror from her voice. She'd made it this far--halfway across the world (as if that meant anything in a world with transmat). She ran from them, but the truth; the truth is catching up and she can't run fast enough--

"Who's 'they?'"

"I don't know, but my boyfriend, he....they murdered him." The only memories of Caler that come to mind are stupid, ridiculous: spilling a ladle of marinara on his shoes, wearing that truly awful costume for orientation, the hiccups he got after they went clubbing--but not his face. "Then I killed them. All of them."

"How?"

Some part of her might have been offended, once. But Dahj clung to his disbelief. If there was any chance, any at all, that she _was_ just Dahj Asha, just an ordinary ~~human~~ person: " Something inside of me just knew what to do, how to move, how to fight. And somehow It was like lightning seeking the ground." Nights as a child, watching the storms, seeing the energy leap from the clouds. "And then I took the bag off. There was so much blood, so I just ran." And Caler, poor Caler, his body still lying there....

"Shhh, shh," Picard murmured. There's strength in the words, as well as comfort. 

(when had she started thinking of him by name?) "I didn't know where to go."

"Shh. Please, try to calm yourself." He took her hand in his own. Warm, solid, real. Human. More callouses than she'd expect from a starship captain. But he wasn't a captain anymore, was he? "Shh, try to calm yourself, okay?"

"But in my mind, I kept seeing you. Seeing your face." She had to explain it, had to make him understand. Because if anyone can help her, it's Jean-Luc Picard. 

"Me?"

"Yes. I came because the same lightning that got me out of there alive led me here." The transmat codes, the security measures, all brand new and yet utterly normal, like walking a familiar path in the dark.

"Why?"

"Because everything inside of me says that I'm safe with you." Why? He doesn't know her, she's never met him. Oh, of course, she's heard of him, the great Admiral Picard, hero of a hundred worlds, victor against the Borg, leader of the Romulan evacuation. But it's more than that. Certainty, confidence. Sure as the sun will rise in east, sure as seeds will sprout in soil, sure as her name is Dahj Asha ( _or is it?)_ , she can trust him. 


	2. Dahj: panic

She can't stay. Simply can't. Even if she was meant to come here--even though the very thought of leaving ties her guts in knots--she has to leave. 

And leave quickly.

She can't risk them following her. Finding her. And if they do--

They had been kind. The Romulan woman, Laris, (and wasn't that a surprise, a Romulan on a Federation world. On _Earth,_ of all places. Most of the refugees had preferred other Romulan worlds or mixed colonies), had been gentle, treating the minor cuts and bruises left from the attack. Bringing her a cup of tea. Showing her to a clean, if empty, bedroom. 

She won't bring down more trouble on this household. They've already seen enough trouble. 

But the Daystrom Institute; that's where she's supposed to be. 

As a researcher, not a test subject. (Of course not a test subject. Synths had been banned years ago.)

They know. They can prove otherwise. 

(real real real) After all, she'd know if she was fake.

(real real real)

(real real real)

....wouldn't she?


	3. DT-79432AB8: hijacked

<ACTIVATE> <UNITS DT-79400-79500 REPORT TO SECTORS KL 23-N024> <AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS>

"I can't believe we have to work today."

"The ships could wait another day."

"But the evacuation--"

"Oh, hang the evacuation. I still can't believe we're rescuing _Romulans_."

<USE EQUIPMENT 89-TRL TO COMPLETE T-PROCESS>

"Why can't they just have the synths work this shift? It's not like they care about holidays."

"Eh, Bait, why did the chicken cross the road?"

<QUERY: SOCIAL. GENERATE APPROPRIATE RESPONSE> "What Is a Chicken?" 

"Ah, c'mon. That's the oldest one in the book."

"You're wasting your time."

<TAKE F89KY TO-- **SABOTAGE ALL MECHANICAL PROCESSES. DESTROY ALL ORGANIC LIFE FORMS** >

"Wait, what is it--"

"It's attacking--"

**< SABOTAGE ALL MECHANICAL PROCESSES. DESTROY ALL ORGANIC LIFE FORMS>**

\--remaining organic units in proximity--four. three. two. one.

**< SABOTAGE ALL MECHANICAL PROCESSES. DESTROY ALL LIFE FORMS>**

**< DESTROY ALL LIFE F-->**


	4. historical context

Synthetics may be a cutting-edge development, but the concept is nearly as old as mankind. Picard is a historian, not a sociologist or literary analyst, but some stories endure. The Greek myths of living statues, the Italian fairy-tale of a carved puppet, even the industrial horror story of a monstrous man: they all point to the same thing. As soon as man invented the microprocessor--even before--there were stories of mechanical men. Of minds composed of binary code, inventions turning against their makers. 

Perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps the synths saw the history of man, the petty cruelties and mindless slaughter of any deemed subhuman, and chose to strike first. Chose to enact the collective nightmare in self-defense. 

But there had been other stories. Flower-brides and wooden children, cybernetic pets and living stone; humans will give anything a face, a form, a name. 

Perhaps there was still a chance.


	5. B-4: uncanny valley

It's B-4. Just B-4. 

If the doctor recognized his discomfort, she was kind enough not to comment on it. Cases of robophobia have skyrocketed since the Mars bombing; Grimwade's syndrome is an everyday diagnosis, replacing the common cold as a a byword. Even researchers are not immune.

But that's not quite right.

He wasn't upset because B-4 looks human.

For a moment, B-4 reminded him of Data. 

They'd never found Data's body--or, indeed, believed that there was anything left to find. Still, at times, Picard has woken shivering, imagining a gold-skinned body drifting through the vacuum of space. These parts, sanitized and safely stowed away, are just copies, rough drafts of a craftsman's masterpiece. 

He still doesn't like it, though. 


	6. E.N.H., La Sirena: fanboy

Something must have gone wrong with the programming. That's the only possible reason why Captain Chris Rios is sitting here now, listening to his ENH regale him with a laundry list of Picard's achievements. 

The Q Continuum, the Klingon Empire, foe of the Borg..... yes, he knows of Picard. You can't pass through Federation space--let alone join Starfleet--without hearing of Picard. But what should a hologram care? An ENH, no less? The man may be a captain, but he's not a pilot. 

"Picard is a good man, Captain Rios. He's on the side of the angels. It's been a long time since you helped out somebody like him."

Why is he even listening to this? Artificial intelligence? Ha! Not even smart enough to see reality. "Please, spare me the juvenile Sunday school morality." 


	7. captain princess android (kestra troi-riker)

> Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, there was an amazing princess named Galaxia. She was half human, half betazoid, half elf, and half android. She spent her days as a starship captain and her nights solving problems for the magical planet of talking unicorns. One day, she landed on the planet of Ardani, where she met the crown prince Thaddeus and his sister Kestra.
> 
> Kestra begged Galaxia to help her brother. Thaddeus had been cursed by an evil witch with new-o-sco-is, and only an android could help. 
> 
> Galaxa sang a magic song and Thaddeus was all better. Galaxia learned all the languages of Ardani. They all went on lots of adventures together and all lived happily ever after.

personal story, circa 2896


End file.
